


Three Kisses

by crisiskris



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Families of Choice, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Multi, lots of porn, seriously don't read it if you don't like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25514683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crisiskris/pseuds/crisiskris
Summary: The librarians have to come together to save Jenkins from an old family dynamic.
Relationships: Flynn Carsen & Jenkins | Galahad, Jenkins | Galahad/Ezekiel Jones, Jenkins | Galahad/Jacob "Jake" Stone
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Loopholes and Technicalities

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Old Blood and New](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3250565) by [icarus_chained](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/pseuds/icarus_chained). 



> Inspired by Icarus_chained's Our Parents' Sins series. I know nothing about Arthurian legend and everything I reference came from what I interpreted from this series. All inaccuracies are my own. 
> 
> I wrote this after having seen the first season of Librarians only and as such it is likely inconsistent with subsequent seasons. 
> 
> I own nothing and mean no harm.

Jenkins was getting used to the new normal. After years of being alone, he’d been thrust into a world where there was not just one, but four librarians – well, three in training and one always running off somewhere – and a guardian, a kindred soul if he’d ever had one. It had been a hard adjustment, but he’d slowly moved from resentment at their intrusion to contentment with their presence, and finally from there to actually missing them when they were gone. So, it was a bit of a secret delight when Flynn and Eve came back from one of their adventures around the same time as all three librarians-in-training were hanging about having a bit of a breather.

Which meant, of course, that something was bound to happen. He was in the back flipping through some old references – puttering, really – when he heard Eve’s voice, sharp and full of warning, call his name. He hurried through the stacks toward the stairs and, just as she had been all those months ago, there she was, standing, looking up at him, that horrible smile on her face.

“Morgan le Fay,” he ground out. Eve’s hand was on her gun; she was standing protectively between the witch and the three trainees, who were looking confused and worried, glancing back and forth between Eve and Jenkins as he descended the stairs.

“Son of a bitch,” he heard Flynn whisper, and he knew the librarian was putting the pieces together and there’d be a hell of an explanation owed soon. But he kept his eyes on the woman before him, who wasn’t even attending to the others in the room. She only had eyes for him.

When he reached the ground floor, she stepped toward him, stopping in front of the table, and leaning over it like she owned the place. He stepped to the other side and stood, ramrod straight, his hands curling into fists. “What do you want?” he demanded.

“You know what I want,” she replied. “You owe me something, and I’ve come to collect.”

Jenkins felt his stomach turn. “It’s impossible,” he said. He was trying for authoritative, but it came out horrified. Everything he had been dreading for centuries was haunting him in her eyes.

“There’s no getting around it,” Morgan continued, tapping her nails against the wood of the table, her eyes locked on Jenkins’. “Your blood owes my blood, and I want what I want.” She lifted her hand from the table, waving it lazily in the direction of the others. “And I know what to take away from you if I don’t get what I want.”

Jenkins glanced over, his eyes locking for a moment with Flynn’s. “I –” he had to stop and clear his throat. “I don’t know if I… can.” He looked down at his hands and then, almost against his will, back up to the woman before him.

She smiled. “Don’t worry, my dear. I’ll be gentle.” Jenkins ducked his head again. “I have some things I need to arrange,” she continued. “So, I’ll give you some time to prepare yourself,” she reached across the table to touch him, the nails of her left hand scraping across his arm. “Three days. Three days to get ready for me. Don’t disappoint me, lover. It would be very costly.” Without even looking at them, she mimed a check-mark with her right index finger, moving along the row: Flynn, Eve, Jake, Cassandra, Ezekiel.

Jenkins closed his eyes, swallowing hard. “I understand,” he replied. He understood, alright. She wanted to play with him a little first; the time was to break him down, and she was enjoying the anticipation of his pain. Morgan laughed softly; there was a palpable feeling of magic buzzing through the air like electricity, and then she was gone. Jenkins’ heart raced in her wake and he inhaled sharply, trying to catch his breath.

His mind was blank for a moment, and then voices crowded into the blankness. “What the hell is going on?” “Jenkins, are you alright?” “What does that mean, your blood owes her blood?” The three librarians-in-training talked over each other in a rush.

Jenkins paled, taking a step backward.

“Perhaps a cup of tea,” Eve suggested. “Stone, Cassie, Jones, come help me make tea.” The guardian grabbed Ezekiel by one arm and Jake by the other, squashing Cassandra in between as she turned them around and hauled them purposefully toward the kitchen, glancing back at Flynn meaningfully as she went.

Flynn came around the table slowly, noticing how Jenkins shrank back from him, and pulled out a chair, rolling it to the other man’s side. “Please,” he said quietly. “Sit.”

It seemed to take him a moment, but Jenkins saw the chair and sank into it. Flynn found himself one and rolled close, but not too close. “This is about Dulaque,” he said. Jenkins nodded wordlessly. “He owes a blood debt to Morgan le Fay.”

“He owes her a child,” Jenkins answered. “He was to be with her. My mother tricked him… and I was the consequence.” He ran a hand over his face. “He’s too corrupted now to give Morgan what she wants, whereas I…”

“Galahad, the pure,” Flynn said. “I remember.” Connected so closely to the magic of the library, Flynn’s memories from the day at the river, with the loom of fate, had slowly come back to him. And, being a librarian, it was easy for him to make the connection: Lancelot, Galahad. He’d confronted the caretaker one afternoon and afterwards promised to keep his secret safe. _But all secrets must out_ , Jenkins thought now.

Jenkins sighed, slumping over. “What my father can’t pay, I must.”

“So, she wants you to… but you’re the grail knight. I mean you can’t…”

“I can, at least, theoretically,” Jenkins answered. A cup of tea was deposited at his elbow and he picked it up and sipped, reflexively, not seeming to notice that the group had returned along with the beverage. “It’s the oath I made that keeps me pure,” he continued, “And I have kept my oath. But her debt…”

“Supersedes your oath,” Flynn finished. Jenkins nodded; eyes closed in grief.

“It was the height of magic. Everything, every word, every promise, was imbued with it. So, the breaking of that oath could – _would_ – unleash a powerful negative backlash,” Jenkins explained.

“Like, powerful enough to open the door to the fey world,” Jake concluded, remembering Eve’s report from the science fair about Morgan’s desire for a magical kingdom to rule.

Jenkins started, as if he’d just realized they were there, and then flushed, but he nodded, and continued. “And it’s more than just that,” he explained. “When magic meets magic like that… it’s a – creative act. It can’t not be.”

“Creative as in… babies?” Ezekiel confirmed, since they’d missed part of the conversation. Jenkins squirmed, looking at his hands as he laid down his teacup. It rattled against the saucer.

“Yes,” he said eventually. “A child born of a blood debt and a broken oath would be a creature of unimaginable power and cursed to darkness from the moment of its birth. And that is what I owe her.”

“Dulaque owes her,” Flynn corrected.

Jenkins stood, agitated. “It doesn’t matter,” he replied, his hands running down the front of his shirt, smoothing imaginary wrinkles. “He can’t pay. I can.”

“Sorry, but can we go back to the blood debt – oath – Dulaque thing one more time,” Cassandra cut in, looking confused.

Jenkins’ face twisted into something ugly.

“Too much backstory,” Flynn said quickly. He glanced around, sussing out which one of them would best put the older man at ease. “Eve,” he concluded, “could you perhaps help Jenkins to his room to rest? We’ll regroup here.”

“I’m fine,” Jenkins replied. “There’s nothing to discuss.”

Flynn looked at him, long and hard. “Rest anyway,” he suggested. “Let me do the heavy lifting here,” he said more quietly, indicating the librarians in training. “They need to know, but you don’t have to be the one to tell them. Let me help.”

Jenkins hesitated, then nodded. He really was a coward, he thought, remembering how Ezekiel had accused him all those weeks ago at the conclave. He’d take any escape offered.

“And maybe we can find an alternative,” Jake said boldly, even though he had no idea what he was talking about. “She said three days, right? That’s lots of time.”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Jenkins whispered, but like a defeated man, came to his feet at Eve’s prodding, and followed her out of the room.

+++

Eve and Jenkins sat together in silence, perched on the edge of his bed. She rested one hand on his knee, and he covered it with his own, glancing sadly down at her before looking away. Long stretches passed.

“Thank you,” he said eventually.

“For what?”

“For not asking. For not… trying to comfort me. For not saying anything.”

Eve smiled at him sadly. “I’m a soldier,” she replied. “I understand.”

He squeezed her hand. “Thank you,” he whispered again.

They sat quietly for several more minutes and then the team fairly burst through the door. Eve tightened her grip on Jenkins’ knee when he jumped at the noise.

Cassandra was through first. “Eve,” she said, “I need you to come with me. We have to go.”

“Uh, okay – well, I mean – Jenkins needs… are you sure?”

“Now, Eve,” Cassandra replied, and the three men who had followed her in were nodding solemnly, so with one final knee-squeeze, she stood, Jenkins letting her hand slip from his as she went.

“Okay,” she said, “let’s go.” Cassandra practically pulled the other woman from the room, and Jake set the door firmly closed behind them.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the effort,” Jenkins said once they were gone. “But there’s nothing to be done.”

“Not nothing,” Flynn replied.

Jenkins looked up at Flynn, suspicious. He had come to stand close to Jenkins, and now he knelt before the old knight.

“We had an idea,” Jake said. “If you aren’t… pure anymore, three days from now, then Morgan can’t draw on the power of your oath.” He stepped up and knelt beside Flynn.

Jenkins shook his head, looking at his hands, head hung low. “I can’t,” he said. “If I were to lie with another woman – there would still be a child, a creature of magic. The blood debt would demand it. And she would stop at nothing to control that child – or destroy it.”

“Right, we figured,” Ezekiel followed his colleagues down to his knees. “But see, mate, there’s a way to go that doesn’t involve lady parts.”

“I beg your pardon?” Jenkins’ head shot up. Ezekiel had crept closer and now his faces was only inches from Jenkins’. The older man’s eyes widened.

“We found a loophole,” Ezekiel said, grinning. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips against Jenkins, firm, but undemanding.

Jenkins gasped and pulled away from the kiss, only to find himself face-to-face with Jake. “We know what to do,” Jake said, and then leaned in. His lips brushed against Jenkins still-open mouth, and his tongue followed, licking gently.

Jake pulled back, Jenkins following his movement with shocked eyes. “What are – what are you doing?” he asked, his voice ragged.

“Three by three by three,” Flynn answered, moving forward as Jake slid back. He surged up and captured Jenkins’ mouth with his, his hands rising to the back of Jenkins’ head and curling into his hair. After a moment, tentatively, Jenkins pressed his lips back against Flynn’s, opening to the other man’s mouth, and Flynn slid his tongue inside, just lightly licking against Jenkins’ own. The older man whined faintly. Flynn pulled back.

Jenkins’ pupils were blown. He’d fallen back against the bed, leaning on his elbows, under Flynn’s weight, and his whole body was shaking. There were tears in his eyes. “I’ve never been kissed,” he whispered.

Jake moved quickly behind the old knight, sliding one leg to either side of him and pulling him back upright, allowing him to lean against his chest. Ezekiel curled up against his right leg, leaning his head against Jenkins’ knee. Flynn stayed kneeling before him.

“I’ve never been –” Jenkins broke off as his breath hitched and his tears spilled over, choking on a sob, refusing to let the sound out. Flynn sat up between his legs and Jenkins fell into him, Jake’s hands moving to his waist to steady him as Jenkins buried his head in Flynn’s shoulder.

“Shh,” Flynn soothed. Ezekiel rubbed his hand up and down Jenkins’ leg, Jake mirroring the strokes against his sides. “Its okay,”

“It’s not,” Jenkins cried. “I’ve never – it’s over. It’s over!” Ezekiel threw himself at the embracing men, covering them both with his whole body. Jake’s arms spread over Ezekiel and Flynn’s backs.

Long minutes later, Jenkins caught his breath, his tears slowing. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rough. He pulled away from the two men in front of him, pushing against Jake. Ezekiel stepped away, pulling Flynn gently with him to standing. Jake let his arms fall to the side, pushing back and twisting so that he could scoot around the older man.

Jenkins held his face in his hands for a moment, and then wiped it with one broad hand. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I think I’m owed an explanation,” he said.

Flynn nodded, moving around Ezekiel to offer Jake a hand up off the bed. “Take your time,” Flynn said, “and we’ll tell you everything when you’re ready.”

+++

There was a steaming pot of Jasmine tea and a freshly warmed cup waiting at the table when Jenkins came down the stairs twenty minutes later, his gait unsteady. The librarian and his trainees were sitting on the other side of the table. Ezekiel made an aborted movement like he wanted to jump to his feet, which Flynn stilled with a hand to the young man’s arm. Jenkins took that in, as well as the expressions on all their faces, as he made his way across the room with as much dignity as he could muster and attempted not to collapse into the chair. He busied himself with the pot for a few minutes, stealing glances at his companions as he prepared his tea. The look on their faces… he couldn’t quite place it, but it was kind. Not pitying, kind.

He took a sip of tea and cleared his throat. “So,” he said, looking at Flynn.

“So,” Flynn echoed. “Your oath is broken.”

Jenkins felt tears in his eyes again and he blinked them away, taking a deep breath. “There will be consequences,” he said when he trusted his voice.

“We know,” Flynn answered.

“Nothing that Eve and Cassandra can’t handle, for the time being,” Jake added.

“Eve and Cassandra… oh. So, they – they were aware of your… intention?”

“Only high-level concepts, nothing graphic,” Ezekiel quickly answered.

“I see.” He contemplated his teacup for a moment, and then lifted his eyes. “You are aware you had no right,” he said, looking at Flynn directly, jaw tightening.

The librarian nodded solemnly. “We know. I’m sorry.” He patted Ezekiel’s hand and Jenkins glanced over, eyes widening when he saw how distraught the young man looked. He looked to Flynn’s left and saw grief mirrored on Jake’s face as well. His eyes came back to Flynn, his expression softening into wariness. Flynn took it as a cue. “Were you to have broken your oath with Morgan le Fay, you would have done so knowingly, and the backlash would have been greater. Unknowing, not consenting…”

“Less damage,” Jenkins finished.

“Less damage of a magical kind,” Flynn corrected. “And for the damage to you, personally, we are truly sorry.”

Jenkins nodded slowly. “I believe you,” he replied. Ezekiel let out a breath. “I don’t know if I forgive you.”

“That’s okay,” Jake replied. “We aren’t going to try to change your feelings. We get that you’ll be angry. We’d rather that than…”

“She would have destroyed you, mate.”

Jenkins conceded Ezekiel’s point with a glance. He took a deep breath. Then another. “You were my first kiss,’ he told the boy then, frowning. “There will be consequences for you, as well.” Ezekiel shrugged, but Jenkins was picking up steam. “For all of you,” he rushed on, looking wildly at Jake and then at Flynn, “and for the library, there could be consequences for the library…”

Jake hurried around the table, touching Jenkins’ arm, and instructed, “Take a breath, Jenkins. Take a nice, slow breath.” Jenkins obeyed and his breathing calmed, but he was shaking. He found, to his shame, that he had leaned into Jake at his side.

“We put a lot of thought into it,” Flynn said after a moment. “Ezekiel – our resident thief – already the worst version of himself, remember? Breaking the oath will cause the least harm to a rogue. Jake and I were just there to reinforce the magic. By the time you got to me, the oath had technically been broken, so the library should be safe.”

Jake circled one arm around his shoulders, his other hand still a reassuring weight on Jenkins’ arm. He was being held. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been held. Confusion churned his stomach. “Should be,” Jenkins echoed hollowly.

“Relatively speaking.”

“I don’t know how to make sense of this,” he said.

“Take your time,” Flynn responded, echoing his earlier words. “We’ll wait.”

Jenkins nodded wordlessly, but when Jake went to pull back, the old knight found that his hands reached out to still the younger man, planting him in place. So, Jake tightened his grip, and Jenkins buried his face in the soft fabric of Jake’s t-shirt.

+++

He spent an unknown amount of time listening to Jake’s heartbeat thudding methodically in his chest and feeling like there was nothing more he had the strength to do, but slowly, his thinking cleared. At length he pushed away, and Jake retreated, sitting down at the head of the table where Ezekiel was fiddling with something electronic. Jenkins reached for his tea and took an absentminded sip. Flynn was still across from him, quietly reading.

“So,” Jenkins said finally. “A loophole.”

“A loophole, and a technicality, actually,” Flynn replied.

“Even with the oath broken, Morgan is still owed a child.”

“That’s the technicality,” Flynn answered, putting his book down and leaning forward. Jenkins shook his head, not understanding. “We did a little cross-referencing while you were resting with Eve. Morgan’s not owed a child, Jenkins. She’s owed the, uh, act.” Flynn looked uncomfortable. Somehow, it made Jenkins feel more tethered. He found himself breathing a little more deeply, connecting more with his mind than the pit of emotion in his solar plexus. 

“The act,” Jenkins repeated, trying to hold on to the intellectual engagement, letting it anchor him.

“Yeah, I mean, she’s assuming that if she had… with Dulaque, there would have been a child. But that’s not _necessarily_ the case. At the time, Dulaque wasn’t particularly magic. He was just an ordinary knight. And her plan to seduce him didn’t involve magic; she wanted him to be with her as she was. So, nothing was guaranteed. The only thing she was actually robbed of was her chance to, you know, try. I know it’s unpleasant, but it’s better than a cursed child born of dark magic.”

Jenkins shook his head. The technicality made little difference that he could see. “It doesn’t matter what might have been,” he replied. “The amount of magic that was stored in that oath, that I’ve… held stoppered for centuries, Flynn – it’s inevitable. The act will lead to the child. What you’ve done, it won’t be enough.” _What_ have _you done?_ He touched his hand to his lips, feeling the ghost of others against them.

“I know,” Flynn replied.

“The blood debt extends to… applies to the, uh, creative force.”

“I know.” Flynn put the book down.

“It means –” Jenkins glanced at Jake, who was listening with a somber expression on his face and Ezekiel, who was putting great effort into appearing not to listen, not quite able to finish his sentence in front of the young men.

“I know what it means, Jenkins,” Flynn answered patiently. “Your oath is broken but you’re still… pure until you’ve…” Flynn cleared his throat, obviously struggling to voice it, too.

“Spilled seed in love’s embrace,” Jenkins forced the words out, quoting the ancient phrasing, sour in his mouth. _One of them had to be brave._ “Which I have never done… hardly ever even without the lover. And if I had, there would still be a child somewhere. The two are inseparable. There can’t not be.” He met Flynn’s eyes, almost defiantly.

“Only if the act involves a woman,” Flynn replied.

“Only if… what?” Jenkins glanced between Flynn and the two librarians in training. Three. Three men. “You can’t be serious.”

“Loophole,” Ezekiel said, drawing a circle in the air with his fingers without looking up.

Jake nodded. “Three by three by three. Three kisses, three days, three lovers.”

“I beg your pardon?” Jenkins said, reaching for his tea.

Ezekiel put down his device and met Jenkins’ gaze. “Not clear? Okay, try this: three kisses, three days, three climaxes.”

Jenkins spit the tea all over the books in front of him, coughing. He stood quickly and whipped around, nearly barrelling into Jake, who had jumped up out of concern. Jake put his arms up and backed away at the older man’s fierce expression.

“Are you okay?” Jake asked, trying to make eye contact.

Jenkins shook his head desperately. Then he fled.

+++

The knock on his door was recognizable even without the voice that said, “it’s Eve.”

“Come in,” he responded. He had been lying back in bed and now he quickly swung his legs around, managing to stand just as she entered. “Please,” he gestured at the only chair in the room. Eve accepted, and he sat back down, perched on the edge of his bed, spine straight.

“How are you holding up, soldier?” she asked.

“I… don’t even know how to answer that,” he said honestly.

Eve shrugged. “Fair enough,” she said. “Well – I have a report. Turns out, Cassie – very handy with a bullwhip.”

“You don’t say.”

“I do – get this…” Even launched into recounting the day’s events, using her hands to illustrate the key points. With every word, Jenkins felt his heart lighten. The guardian was still the guardian. The backlash had been more than managed by the capable young librarian-in-training, and neither had come to harm.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely when she had finished, leaning forward to take her hand. She smiled and squeezed back before he let go.

“So… I take it they told you what comes next,” she said after a moment.

“Clearly they told _you_.”

Eve shook her head. “Not in detail.”

“Nor I.”

“Would you want to know?”

Jenkins scoffed. “God, no.”

There was an awkward silence, and then Eve leaned forward seriously. “Jenkins – I swear, we only have your best interests at heart.”

“I know.” He sighed. “And if I could come up with an alternative, I’d be voicing it by now. But I can’t. It’s a… sensible plan.”

Eve sighed. “I’m sure it must be uncomfortable, thinking about… you know, with men?”

Jenkins looked to the heavens. “I haven’t even got to that,” he answered. “It’s much more basic. The thought of… even the kisses that they…” _What? Gave? Stole?_ He didn’t have language for this. He blundered on. “It goes against everything I’ve committed myself to for hundreds of years, and I have no way to make peace with that.” Shame scalded him at the admission. Even talking about such things…

Eve caught his eye. She looked unusually earnest. “I understand that this is very, very hard for you. Harder than I could imagine. Please just promise me you’ll… try not to hate them, okay?”

“Oh, Eve,” he answered, his expression softening. “I don’t hate them. I could not hate them.”

“I’m glad.” She leaned back, staring at the ground for a moment, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “This is all my fault,” she mumbled at last.

“It most certainly is not.”

“You said it yourself,” she replied, “I had my chance and I didn’t take it.”

“And you said, you’re not here just to kill. You’re the guardian. You’re here to save the innocent.”

“You’re an innocent, Jenkins.”

“Hardly. A thousand years of bloodshed, Colonel.”

Eve nodded. “Okay, fine. But you know what? No matter what happens with… all of that,” she waved her hand at the door, meaning the team beyond it, the library, Morgan, the world. “You’ll never be impure.”

“I swore to be chaste. After tomorrow… I will not be.”

“Sure, okay,” Eve replied. “But you’ll always be pure of heart, Jenkins.” His eyes widened as he looked at her, and she nodded. “Always,” she affirmed, and held his eyes until he conceded with a nod. “Good,” she said, when he had. She stood, tucking his chair back up against the wall. “Now, try to get some rest.”

“Eve,” He said, standing to follow her. She stopped at the door, turning back to him. “What I said that first time we encountered Morgan – I was selfish. I saw her and I knew this was coming and…” he broke off, glancing away, and then collected himself. “I apologize. You did not make a mistake, saving the lives of children.”

Eve smiled. She reached out and lightly tapped Jenkins on the chest. “Pure of heart,” she repeated.

+++

Jenkins lay in the dark of his room long into the night. Hours ago, he wouldn’t have conceived he could be unsteadied more by his own companions than by Morgan le Fay herself. But then… when he closed his eyes, he could feel Ezekiel’s warm lips, dry and firm. The flash of Jake’s tongue across his own lip. Gasping into Flynn’s mouth, their tongues meeting…

He felt desire growing in him at the memory, and along with it, confusion _. I was kissed by Ezekiel_ , he thought, _but I –_ I _kissed Flynn. I…_ his hand wandered down between his legs and he began to stroke his half-hard cock, not even realizing what he was doing. Then a moment later, his mind caught up and he pulled his hand away as though it had been scalded. Would he fall so quickly, then? Walk away from his commitment so easily?

Had he just been waiting for someone to undo things _for_ him, all this time?

And when… whatever happened tomorrow, and the next day, and the next… when it was done, there was still – the act, as Flynn had put it. He would still have to… bile rose in Jenkins' throat, burning, and he rolled on his side, pulling his knees up to his chest. What would be left of him after that?


	2. Firsts

The day dawned too early, and Jenkins slept too little. He dressed mechanically and stood by his door, one hand on the knob, for a long moment, dreading going out. But there was no delaying the inevitable, so finally, he grasped the knob, threw open the door, and strode into the… as it turned out, empty library.

Well, almost empty. Jake Stone sat at Flynn’s desk; legs crossed up on top of it. “Good morning,” he said, flipping through a book.

“Good morning,” Jenkins answered. “So, it’s to be your turn today, then, Mr. Stone?” He winced inwardly at how crass his voice sounded and hurried to add, “I apologize. That was uncalled for,” when he saw hurt flit across Jake’s face.

“No, it’s okay,” Jake replied, planting his feet on the floor, and standing up. “I, uh, I don’t blame you. I’d be angry too.” He wiped his palms against his jeans.

“Still… I don’t – I am far beyond my depth, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

Jake laughed unexpectedly. “Ditto,” he replied. Jenkins shook his head, not understanding. “You’re my first too – I mean, my first…”

“Man,” Jenkins finished, cluing in. He felt suddenly cold.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t need to do this,” Jenkins said, the implications sinking heavy into his heart. He’d been selfish again – _his_ oath, _his_ debt. What were these men sacrificing because of this weight he carried? He felt faint, like he couldn’t catch his breath.

“Jenkins, are you listening? It’s not like that. Jenkins,” Jake repeated, catching his eye. “We talked a long time about what needed to come next. And we concluded that – that making ourselves do something we didn’t want to do would run counter to the intent. We wouldn’t have proceeded if we hadn’t made our peace with this. We’re all going in with…”

“Pure hearts?” Jenkins suggested dryly.

Jake smiled. “Something like that,” he replied. “Look – I’m not doing this because I feel pressured to. I’m doing it because I want to…” he cast around for the words, “to be part of something important – be part of righting a wrong. And I want to help you. I’m not… upset, or disgusted, or scared.” Jenkins gave him a pointed look. “Okay, a little nervous. It’s awkward; I won’t deny that. But this isn’t just some duty to be endured, Jenkins. I made a choice and I’m content with it. Okay?”

Jenkins hesitated for a moment, studying the other man’s face carefully. He could read nothing but sincerity there.

“Alright,” he conceded. “Though I feel I should apologize. I will be your… first man, and I have no experience whatsoever to draw on.”

“That’s okay,” Jake replied. “I have some ideas.”

“Ah.” Jenkins glanced around. “I presume the others have made themselves scarce on our behalf?” Jake nodded. “Shall we get on, then?” he gestured toward the stairwell, his heart fluttering in his chest.

“Actually,” Jake said, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I wondered if you would look at something with me first.” At Jenkins questioning look, he hurried over to the table with a large tome. “I want your opinion on this manuscript I’ve been working on.”

Jenkins relaxed a bit. There was no delaying the inevitable forever, of course, but it wouldn’t hurt to put it off just a little bit longer, would it? “Of course,” he said, seating himself before the book. Jake came to stand behind his shoulder, leaning over to point out something in the text. He was hyper aware of Jake’s presence at first, but gradually he found himself swept into the manuscript, looking up into Jake’s eager face as the young man shared his theories and watching his growing understanding of the subject under Jenkins’ guidance.

He had no idea how much time had passed by until he realized that his shoulders were aching. “Bit of a crick in my neck,” he admitted, sitting back, and trying to roll it out.

“Here, let me help with that,” Jake replied, and the young man’s warm hands fell onto Jenkins’ shoulders, kneading softly. He could feel the strength in Jake’s hands, but they moved gently, pressing into Jenkins’ flesh and retracting, moving down the lines of his back. He was so very rarely touched… Jenkins let his eyes close, enjoying the sensation, his body relaxing moment by moment.

Jake’s hands were at his hips now, stroking across the small of his back, dipping as low as they could reach with Jenkins in the chair. Each touch sent a small thrill through the older man, a tingle, and he found himself almost drowsing in it. Maybe he could get through this, he thought, and opened his eyes.

Jake was looking down at him with a fond expression on his face and he smiled when they made eye contact. “Are you ready?” Jake asked, his voice low.

Jenkins nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Jake leaned in and kissed him, gentle but insistent, and Jenkins allowed it, opening under the kiss, letting the other man in, tentatively exploring back. One of Jake’s hands had wandered to Jenkins’ face, cradling it, and the other braced against the chair, pushing it back without breaking the kiss so that Jenkins could turn from the table and stand. As Jenkins drew himself up to his full height, Jake had to rise to his tiptoes, and they both smiled. Then Jenkins glanced away, cheeks reddening.

“Come on,” Jake said quietly, holding out his hand. Jenkins accepted almost shyly, and let the younger man lead him up the stairs to his room. He swallowed hard as they crossed the threshold. “It’s going to be okay, Jenkins,” Jake said.

“My, uh, my first name… I was called Galeas,” Jenkins whispered. _Shouldn’t a lover know your name?_ Jake’s hands were on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Do you prefer that?”

“No,” Jenkins blushed, feeling foolish. Jake’s hands had travelled to his pants, and they were slipping down his thighs. “I just thought…”

“I’ll call you what you like to be called,” Jake replied, holding Jenkins steady as he stepped out of his trousers.

“Jenkins.”

“Jenkins,” Jake agreed, sliding his thumb into Jenkins’ underwear and pulling, letting them fall to the ground. Jenkins stumbled over them a little and landed on the bed less gracefully than he intended, flushing even deeper. “Jenkins, look at me.” He raised his eyes to see that Jake had been undressing himself too, and now stood nearly naked before him, clad only in his underwear.

Jenkins felt an ache deep within him, looking at the firm body standing before him. It was an old ache, as old as he was, and one he had always, always denied. His heart pounding, he reached out. Jake obliged, taking a few steps closer, until Jenkins could hook his fingers in the elastic waist and tug them down. Jake was as hard as he was. Before he could stop himself, almost reverently, he reached out to touch the younger man, laying his hands on Jake’s hips. Jake let Jenkins guide him down on top of him. His thigh pressed into Jenkins’ erection and the older man’s breath hitched into something between a sob and a sigh.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jake repeated, sliding Jenkins down to lie on the bed and covering him with his body. He laid kisses down the side of Jenkins’ neck and along his collar bone before moving back up his throat and claiming his mouth once more. Jenkins pushed helplessly against Jake’s thigh, hands fisting in the blankets.

Jake reached down between them, wrapping his had around Jenkins’ cock, and began stroking with the rhythm of the older man’s hips. “Oh,” Jenkins said against Jake’s mouth. He gasped, writhing in Jake’s grip, and the younger man sped up, moving his lips away from Jenkins’ mouth to fasten against the pulse point in his neck, nipping and licking.

And then Jake sucked against Jenkins’ neck, and his head fell back, his eyes closing. He thrust up and up and up into Jake’s grip, his hands coming round to grasp Jake’s back and pull him closer, impossibly close, grinding their bodies together.

Jake made a grunting sound and lifted his head to bite Jenkins ear, sucking and blowing and _oh it was good god good_ and Jenkins gasped out “yes, yes, yes,” and came violently all over Jake’s hand.

Jake rode out his orgasm, pumping him slowly, and then, as Jenkins’ thrusting stilled, cupped the older man’s softening cock in his warm, broad hand, leaning over to kiss him one last time. Jenkins shook beneath him and suddenly he was crying.

“Shh,” Jake whispered, shifting to lie on the bed, rolling Jenkins on top and draping him across his chest, using one thigh to nudge Jenkins’ leg between his.

“I’m sorry,” Jenkins whispered, swiping at the trailing tears on his cheeks.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Jake said, running a hand through the other man’s hair.

“The tears, I – I don’t know…”

“The tears are fine. You’re allowed to feel, Jenkins. Whatever you feel. Okay?”

Jenkins nodded. “I… I wish I could have given you a better… first time,” he offered.

Jake laughed. “Jenkins,” he chided. Jake captured Jenkins’ hand and led it down between his legs, guiding his fingers to Jake’s softening penis, sticky with his own come.

“Oh!” Jenkins said. “I didn’t realize.”

“It was good for me too,” Jake said, his amused tone indicating that the line was some kind of joke, and Jenkins didn’t understand it but he smiled anyway, laying his head back on Jake’s chest, where the thudding of the younger man’s heartbeat lulled him to sleep.

+++

He woke alone, his room dark, still naked. _God – the boy had run – he’d… he’d not wanted it, he’d lied…._ Jenkins stumbled out of bed and found his robe, feeling tears sting his eyes again, so many tears in such a short while, _oh god, Jake, was he alright, was he angry, was he… did he feel ashamed?_ His feet flew down the stairs so quickly that he nearly tripped.

“Are you alright?” Jake’s concerned voice asked.

“You’re still here,” Jenkins replied, relief bleeding into his tone.

Jake put down the book he’d been reading and stood up from the table, hurrying to the old knight’s side. “Did you think I would leave?”

“I thought – you never… with a man – maybe you had regrets,” Jenkins was aware that he was babbling, but he couldn’t stop.

Jake smiled. “I just didn’t want to disturb you,” he assured. “And I thought you might appreciate a bit of space. I expected you to be angry with me.”

Jenkins just shook his head, unable to form words. His guilt must have been plain, though, because Jake took Jenkins’ hand. “Look – this was a new experience for me, yes. But I don’t regret it. I don’t feel bad about it. Okay?”

Jenkins watched him, torn. “You’re alright?” he whispered.

“I’m grateful I can help,” Jake replied.

Jenkins studied the floor, feeling his face flush again. “Would you – will you stay tonight?”

“Without hesitation.” Jake reached his other hand out to stroke Jenkins’ cheek. “I’d be honoured.”


	3. Slow Burns and Consequences

Jenkins woke the next morning having gotten significantly more sleep than the night before. Jake wasn’t in bed, but he was seated quietly in the chair at his bedside. “Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” Jenkins replied, sitting up. He gazed up at the other man, feeling almost peaceful.

Jake smiled when their eyes met. “I’m heading out now,” he continued gently.

Jenkins’ face fell, something sharp twisting in his heart. “Right. Of course.”

“I’m sorry,” Jake said sincerely. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“No, I understand.”

“Do you?” Jake came and sat on the edge of the bed, looking closely at the other man.

“Of course,” Jenkins demurred, sitting up straighter, hands nervously smoothing out the blanket around him. “There’s magic to be done, and you’re – heterosexual.” Jake took a breath to protest but Jenkins raised a hand to silence him. “You are my first lover,” he said pointedly. “I can’t just – discount that.”

“You were my first man,” Jake said. “And I’ll never forget that.” He kissed Jenkins’ cheek and Jenkins pressed his face into Jake’s shoulder. “You’ll be my only man, Jenkins,” Jake whispered. “There will never be another.”

“Indeed,” Jenkins whispered back, and let him go.

+++

When Jenkins came to the staircase several minutes later, washed and dressed, he heard voices talking quietly below him. He lowered himself down at the edge of the railing to sit in the shadows of the top step, listening.

“So, he’s not mad,” Ezekiel’s voice floated up to him.

“More sad than anything,” Jake replied.

“Well, good,” Ezekiel replied, and it must have earned him a reproachful look because he quickly added, “Not like good, good. But I mean – I thought he’d hate us. I expected him to, I don’t know….”

“Yell, scream, break things?”

Ezekiel laughed. “Yeah, not exactly Jenkins’ style, is it.”

There was silence for a while, papers rustling. Then, “Are you going to be okay, Jones?”

“Please. I’m getting what I want here.” Jenkins’ eyes widened. _What?_

“Don’t play with him.” Jake’s voice was cold.

“I’m not! I’m… look, I’m covering, okay? I feel like a sleaze. I’m attracted to him and he’s never even been with anybody.”

“Well, I mean, I’m somebody,” Jake grumbled.

“You know what I mean,” Ezekiel replied. “No matter how I approach this, I feel like I’m taking advantage.”

Jake replied, but Jenkins couldn’t hear it over the sudden pounding of his heart in his chest. Mr. Jones – Ezekiel – was attracted to him? _Oh. Oh. That would explain a lot. All those little smiles, the touches, the jokes_. How had he not noticed before? Jenkins felt his world slide apart and crash back together again just a little different, in a way that was becoming unsteadyingly familiar. He sighed, feeling every year of his age. He might not be an innocent exactly, but clearly, he had been incredibly naïve. “Oh, god,” he groaned.

“Nope, just me,” Ezekiel’s voice said, and Jenkins jerked his head up to discover the thief standing only a few steps below him, smiling, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I didn’t hear you,” Jenkins said stupidly.

“Thief, remember? Light on my feet.” He came up the remaining steps and settled on the floor beside Jenkins. “Here. I brought you tea.”

“I – thank you.” Jenkins took a sip. It was perfect. Ezekiel made his tea just the way he liked it… because he’d been paying attention. Because he was… “I heard you speaking with Mr. Stone,” he said, deciding direct confrontation was the best course of action.

“I figured.” Ezekiel played with some trinket he’d picked up along the way, spinning it in his hands. “I mean it, you know. I like you, Jenkins. I’m attracted to you. And I’m sorry if that bothers you.”

Jenkins stared at him over his teacup, shocked. “You’re worried about me?” he replied. “I’m a thousand-year-old man corrupting the innocence of three people working in the service of good. I’m – this mess is my responsibility. None of you should be having to make… choices… in regard to me.”

Ezekiel regarded him with serious eyes. “I’m not innocent,” he replied. Jenkins drew in a breath, but Ezekiel cut him off. “No. You listen to me. I might be the youngest person here, but I am an adult and I know my mind. I know what I like, and I like you. But I want you to understand that I feel like an ass, putting you in this position where you can’t say no.”

“I put you in this position.”

Ezekiel rolled his eyes. “If we’re going to compete over who should feel worse, we’re never gonna get anywhere today. How about, this is Morgan’s fault, and if I understood the crash course Flynn gave us in Arthurian history, Lancelot’s fault. All you did was be born.”

Jenkins winced, closing his eyes. They flew open a moment later when he felt Ezekiel’s hand on his arm. He glanced up and saw the emotion on the younger man’s face – concern and affection; hope and fear.

“Would you ever have told me?” he asked.

“Well,” Ezekiel replied, turning his body more fully toward Jenkins. “Before I found out about your whole no-sex deal, I just figured you were a slow burn.”

“Pardon me?”

Ezekiel grinned. “I thought you were flirting back. So, I figured I was on the right course, but that someone as, uh… you know,” he mimed straightening a bow-tie with his free hand, “would just take a little longer to get to the good stuff.”

Jenkins stared at him, open-mouthed. “A slow burn,” he repeated.

Ezekiel didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. Instead he raised one eyebrow and swept his gaze up and down the other man. “I was more than happy to wait.”

Jenkins turned his head away, feeling his cheeks heat up.

Ezekiel seemed to take pity on him, because he squeezed Jenkins’ arm and let go, shuffling over to put his back to the wall. “Anyway,” he continued, “When Flynn explained what the hell Morgan was talking about, I realized that you weren’t flirting. You were just… connecting with me, like on a human level. Which is great, don’t get me wrong, but if this whole thing wasn’t happening and I knew what I know now… I would have probably kept my mouth shut. It wouldn’t have been fair to you.”

Jenkins sighed. “Maybe I was,” he said.

“Huh?”

“Flirting.” The word sounded strange coming out of his mouth. “Maybe I was. I enjoy your company, Ezekiel, and every man has… desires. I never meant to. But maybe I was.” He risked a glance at the other man. Ezekiel looked gobsmacked.

“Really,” he said slowly.

Jenkins shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m overwhelmed. But…” _the smiles, the touches, the jokes_ … Jenkins knew he had been giving as much as he got. “I also – I responded, I mean…” he stopped, flustered.

“You really are adorable, Jenkins,” Ezekiel replied, and then leaned over and kissed him.

+++

One kiss led to the next, and Ezekiel’s hands were on him, pulling him close, running through his hair, wrapping around his neck. They sort of fell to the floor in a tangle and then Ezekiel was on top of him, and he grew hard beneath the weight while Ezekiel kissed his lips, his neck, his shoulder, unbuttoning his shirt and kissing all the way down.

“Wait,” Jenkins panted, and Ezekiel paused. One hand was undoing Jenkins’ trousers and the other was rubbing him through the fabric. “What – what are you doing?”

Ezekiel grinned, sliding Jenkins’ pants and underwear down to his thighs. “You’ll love it, I promise,” he said, and then slid his wicked mouth over Jenkins' aching cock and sucked.

“Oh, God,” Jenkins’ head fell back to the floor and he writhed as Ezekiel’s hands came to his hips, stroking the sensitive flesh in time with the bobbing of his head up and down, tight, and hot, and wet. Jenkins heard sounds coming out of his mouth, little grunts and cries, and he banged his fist against the floor and thrust up. Ezekiel rode out the motions, one hand moving from Jenkins’ hip to cup his balls.

“Wait, wait, stop,” Jenkins had time to gasp, and then he was coming, and he tried to pull Ezekiel’s head away but the other man ignored him, continuing to suck him as his climax ended, licking him clean as he softened. Jenkins moaned, rolling away on his side, bringing his hands between his thighs to hold himself.

“Jenkins, mate, are you okay?” Ezekiel said, voice worried.

“I don’t know,” Jenkins answered, squeezing his eyes shut, and then Ezekiel’s hands were on him, his thin body moulding against Jenkins’ back, holding him tight from behind.

“Easy,” Ezekiel whispered.

“I don’t know,” Jenkins said again, his teeth chattering, shaking in Ezekiel’s arms.

“Okay, Jenkins,” Ezekiel said. “Listen to the clock.”

“W-what?”

“The big grandfather clock in the mezzanine. Can you hear it ticking?”

“I don’t –”

“Just listen.” Numb, helpless, Jenkins did as he was told. He could hear the clock, lumbering and old, ticking out the seconds. “Can you hear it?”

Tick, tick. “Yes.”

“Good. Now name three objects you can see.”

“What?”

“Whatever’s around. Just open your eyes and name three things.”

“Table – table leg, book, carpet.”

“Two things you can feel.”

“The, the rug. You.” Jenkins’ voice was stronger. His heartbeat was slowing.

“That’s good. Let’s try to sit up now, okay?” Ezekiel’s hands guided him up, and as he straightened his back, he noticed the young man discretely tug his underwear and pants back up his thighs. He quickly lifted his buttocks and Ezekiel guided them over his hips, letting Jenkins zip up as he came back to seated. He was sticky but having his clothes back on felt better.

“I’m sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Just a little panic attack,” Ezekiel said. He had put a bit of distance between them, sitting back up against the wall.

He took a deep breath, and then another. Finally, he looked over, and Ezekiel was smiling at him, looking a bit sad. “I should have maybe started with something a little less intense,” he suggested.

Jenkins huffed out a laugh. “I have never – it never even occurred to me that…mouths and…” he gestured at his crotch.

Understanding fell over Ezekiel’s face. “Oh!” he said. “Oh my god, I’m an idiot. No, no, it’s all good,” he added when Jenkins frowned anxiously. “Jenkins, I’m so sorry. I forgot that I wasn’t just with a virgin, but with someone who never even watches porn.” Ezekiel rolled his eyes.

“Porn? Pornography?” Jenkins felt affronted, his indignance rising. He stiffened, preparing to stand, and was only stilled by Ezekiel’s hands desperately reaching for him.

“Don’t go, don’t, please, Jenkins, please don’t go,” he babbled, pulling on Jenkins’ sleeve. “I’m so sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I’m sorry. I just… please don’t go.”

“You’re mocking me,” Jenkins said, pulling away, and heard the hurt beneath the anger he tried to inflect in his words.

Ezekiel must have heard it too because he scooted closer. “I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m fucking it all up. Please. I am not trying to make fun of you. I’m just sort of freaking out because I thought I was doing a great job and instead I’ve discovered that the man I’m with doesn’t even know what a blow job is and I feel like a fucking sex offender.”

Jenkins blinked, mouth falling open. _Blow job?_ But Ezekiel’s face was so earnest and scared and… a wave of tenderness flooded through him, and he turned to mirror Ezekiel’s body, reaching up to grasp his shoulder. “You are not a sex offender,” he said seriously. The boy relaxed slightly, and Jenkins cursed himself inwardly for even thinking that Ezekiel had meant to belittle him. He cleared his throat, determined to put his feelings into words so that the other man could be freed of his pain. “That was… a shock. A shock that, that people do that, but also… that I liked it.”

Ezekiel smiled. “You’re supposed to like it, mate. That’s the point. Sex is not a bad thing,” he said.

Jenkins heaved a sigh at that, dropping his hand. “Two days ago, it was. No. That’s not fair. It wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t ever going to be for me. And now… two men, two days, two…” Ezekiel, thankfully, had the good grace not to fill in that blank. “I just, I have taken in all I can. And there’s still tomorrow.” _And what comes after_ , he thought darkly, but could not bring himself to say.

“Don’t even think about it,” Ezekiel advised. “Let’s – let’s go out. Let’s get breakfast. Let’s do something that keeps us from making ourselves crazy with our thoughts.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Jenkins nodded, and let Ezekiel guide him carefully to his feet.

+++

The day was warm but cloudy and there was a cool breeze blowing. Ezekiel headed straight to the passenger seat of the car without question, and Jenkins found it comforting and familiar to be in the driver’s seat, meandering down the winding roads toward the coast. They stopped at a deli for some bits and bites and kept going until they found a little park overlooking the water, where they ate in companionable silence and stared out at the waves crashing against the black rocks.

After what seemed like an eternity, Jenkins heaved a huge sigh, feeling himself relax.

“Better?” Ezekiel asked.

“Indeed,” he murmured. He glanced over at the young man, who was staring out to sea. “I’m sorry,” he added.

Ezekiel turned to him. “Nothing to say sorry for. We are in full-on no-man’s-land here. Bound to be a bit…” he shrugged, lacking the words to finish, but Jenkins understood.

“Not much of a match, are we?” he said.

“Why? Because you’re a sweet, innocent old man and I’m a sick, perverted youth? It’s a pretty classic dynamic, actually… just backwards.”

“Please don’t call yourself that,” Jenkins said earnestly. “Because if you are, then I am. I… Mr. Jones – Ezekiel – I liked it. I, uh… I...” _all secrets must out_ , he reminded himself, and then said, all in a rush, “I wouldn’t mind trying it again.”

Ezekiel leered at him: “Here? In the park?”, and then laughed when Jenkins blushed and sputtered. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately after, realizing what he’d done - again. “I swear I’m not laughing at you, Jenkins. I’m not very good at, you know, being careful with my words.”

Jenkins saw the other man’s brow furrow and quickly patted him on the arm. “I like who you are,” he assured him. “Don’t change on my account. You’ll just have to wait for me to catch up, sometimes.”

Ezekiel smiled. “See?” he said. “I knew it.” At Jenkins’ puzzled look he explained, “slow burn.”

+++

The drive home was as pleasant as the drive there. Jenkins liked feeling in control of something, even if it was just a car, and he took the long way home. Ezekiel either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. They chattered about the sorts of things they usually talked about – experiments and heists, artifacts hidden away in the library, whether UFOs were real (they were not, Jenkins maintained, and they were, maintained Ezekiel). When they got back, he bustled into the kitchen to fix tea, Ezekiel following him from room to room as he puttered.

“We do this a lot,” Jenkins commented as he set the tea tray down and Ezekiel collapsed into a nearby chair.

“We do,” he agreed.

“Is this – is this what you meant by flirting?”

Ezekiel cocked his head. “Not quite,” he said. He reached for the sugar bowl and let his hand brush against Jenkins’. The older man had to resist the urge to curl his fingers around the other’s. “That is,” Ezekiel finished, looking up him. Their hands were still touching, sending little thrills of sensation across Jenkins’ skin.

“Huh.” Jenkins thought back to all the times he’d reached for the younger man – his back, his shoulder, smoothing his shirt down, patting his arm. They were often touching. Why had he thought he was hardly ever touched? Ezekiel was near him constantly. He turned his hand so that his fingers lightly grazed Ezekiel’s, and the other man obliged by wrapping Jenkins’ hand in his. Jenkins stared down at their entwined fingers. He sat down and reached for his tea with his other hand, refusing to let go.

+++

Cassandra, Jake, and Eve came back late that evening, out of breath and dirty. Cassie had a black eye and Jenkins leapt to his feet, crying out in alarm. “Oh, my, Miss Cillian,” he said, “come sit down, sit, sit.” He hurried back into the library and returned as quickly, carrying a little bottle. “Drink this, just a drop, it’ll ease the pain,” he promised, and Cassie took it gratefully.

“I take it, it didn’t go well,” he said after he’d fussed over her a moment longer, straightening to look at Eve, his heart suddenly pounding.

Eve shrugged, pulling twigs out of her hair. “Actually, not that bad,” she replied. “There were some, uh… giant bird things and a really creepy cemetery.”

“It was really dark,” Jake added. Cassie glared at him. “Really, really dark.”

Jenkins looked at him, bewildered. “I don’t understand.”

Beside him, Ezekiel burst out laughing. “Ah, you tripped. You tripped in the dark.” Now Cassie turned her glare on him.

“Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands, but still smirking.

“It was pretty funny,” Jake grinned.

“And she did sort of save the day,” Eve pointed out.

Jenkins looked from face to face in wild confusion. “I tripped over a gravestone that was part of a magic circle and knocked it out of place,” Cassie explained.

“Thereby ending the spell,” Eve finished, “and saving the day.”

“Well, I guess,” Cassie replied, and then grinned.

They were smiling. And laughing. Jenkins shook his head, staring at the merry troupe of idiots, feeling something clawing through his gut towards his heart. “Is this a joke to you?” he demanded. “Do you think this is all amusing somehow?”

They stopped giggling at each other. “Hey, Jenkins, we didn’t mean anything by –” Jake started, but the words died on his lips when the old knight whirled around to meet his eye, raising a finger in warning.

“Do you have any idea, any idea at all the kind of unchecked power that could be swirling around here? Any idea of what could be coming? You’ve been putting me through… through… for the last two days and we don’t even know if it will work. And if it doesn’t, do you have any conception at all whatsoever of what could happen? Any of you?” He was shouting now, gesticulating wildly, his face red with anger.

The librarians in training were all looking at their toes. Only Eve dared meet his eye. “Jenkins,” she said reasonably. “We didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Out!” he screamed, thrusting his hand toward the door. “I want you out of my annex, now, all of you! Out!”

Jake helped Cassie to her feet, leading her toward the exit. Eve held his eyes a moment longer, sympathetic, but he just shook his head at her. “Okay,” she responded to what he’d left unsaid. “That’s fair, Jenkins. We’ll go.” She turned and walked away.

Jenkins turned from the door, clutching his heart, breathing heavily. He ran a hand over his face and looked up to see Ezekiel hovering uncertainly at the edge of the table. “I – I wasn’t sure,” he stuttered, “Did you mean – me too?”

All the rage flooded from Jenkins’ body, leaving him aching and tired and feeling impossibly old. “I told you,” he replied. “I have taken in all I can. I just…” he closed his eyes. “Please just go,” he whispered.

When he opened his eyes again, he was alone.

+++

He sat up the rest of the night drinking whisky with his back against the solidity of a bookshelf. He hardly ever imbibed – in fact, the last time he could remember was the last time that Morgan had… he shuddered at the thought and quickly put it out of his mind, downing what was left in his glass and pouring another. When the bottle was empty, he stood and wandered around the annex, mechanically tidying things up, rolling scrolls and shelving books and straightening all his various machines and gadgets. He tucked in the chairs and hung up the coat that Cassandra had left behind.

He climbed the stairs to his room and remembered how Jake had taken him on his bed, so he went back to the mezzanine and remembered how Ezekiel had…had… in the stairwell, and he felt the whisky burning in his stomach… he half-fell down the stairs and rushed to the kitchen, feeling his gorge rise, gagging.

He made it to the sink and threw up, and again, and then again, clinging to the counter because his legs were shaking so badly. He retched and spit until he was bringing nothing up but bile.

And then he felt soft hands in his hair, pulling it away from his sweat-soaked forehead. “It’s okay, Jenkins,” the voice said.

“Eve,” he said, and his legs gave way. She followed him down, helping to cushion his fall, leaning back against the cupboard, and drawing him into her. “Christ,” he whispered, and fell against her lap, letting her cradle him against her. She rocked him and he clung to her like a child, burying his face in the hollow of her shoulder, breathing in the faint fragrance of vanilla and something floral, his hands clinging, stretching the cotton of her sweater.

After a while, he pushed away from her, and eased up to sitting. He risked looking at her face and saw her regarding him sympathetically. His confusion must have showed because she reached up and smoothed his hair down and said, “Not my first war, soldier.”

He breathed out an almost-laugh, limp against the cupboard, stretching his long legs before him. After a further moment of silence, he shook his head and said, “I don’t think I can go through with it.”

Eve shrugged. “If you can’t, you can’t,” she replied.

Jenkins stared at her, wide-eyed. “But – if I don’t then, when Morgan – there will be a child, and she’ll rent a hole in the fabric of the universe.”

“Then we’ll deal with it.”

“It would literally be the end of the world.”

“Then we’ll deal with it,” she repeated. She grabbed his arm and looked at him seriously. “Jenkins, look at me. We’ll deal with it. Together. The six of us. We’ll figure out a way to fix it, or we’ll die back-to-back. The point is you are not alone.”

“I feel alone,” he replied, the residual effect of the whisky letting the words slide out of him with far more ease than he ordinarily would have allowed. “I feel alone, and old, and incompetent, and useless and… I’m a burden on everyone. Mr. Stone had to go against his nature, Mr. Jones had to reveal feelings he didn’t want to share, and Miss Cillian got hurt.”

“I’m still standing, old man,” Eve replied. “And as for the rest? Jake – not as straight as he thinks he is. Cassie’s tougher than she looks. And I’m about a thousand percent sure Ezekiel had every intention of revealing those feelings. He wasn’t exactly being subtle about it.”

“Of course,” he replied. “Only the naive idiot caretaker missed the signals.”

“Jenkins, you have got to stop being so hard on yourself.” Eve stood, reached down, and hauled him to his feet. “Look, I’m not saying that this isn’t just about the most fucked up situation I’ve ever seen. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through, and I’m not surprised that you’re having trouble dealing with all this trauma.”

“Trauma?”

“Yes. That’s what you’ve been experiencing, Jenkins. Trauma. You’re not a burden, not an idiot. You’re a victim. I know,” she added, holding out one hand when he drew breath to protest, “You’re some fancy knight of the whatever who’s been alive for a billion years. But even tough guys get knocked down sometimes.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he answered.

“You don’t have to know,” she said. “In the moment that a decision must be made, you’ll make one. And it’ll be the right one for you. And whatever the consequences are, we’ll deal, together. Because we’re a family.”

He smiled faintly at her. “I never had a sister,” he said.

“Yeah, well, you do now.”


	4. Reverence

He couldn’t sleep that night and Eve stayed with him, talking when he wanted to and stopping when he fell silent, and he was so grateful not to be alone that sometimes when he’d glance over to her, tears would come to his eyes. As the night wore on his fear grew and he found himself pacing up and down the halls, back and forth in long straight marches. Sometimes Eve would walk with him and sometimes she’d sit at one end or the other. Every once in a while, she brought him tea.

At one point, she kindly suggested that he shower, and he realized that he was still wearing the pants he’d been wearing with Ezekiel, and he blushed a deep red and hurried off to his bedroom. He showered in cold water, washing himself roughly, not wanting to remember the sensation of pleasure on his skin. Once scrubbed clean, he changed into a fresh suit, combed his hair, and regarded his face in the mirror unkindly, half-heartedly wishing he could just pick up a sword and stab something. His stomach churned anytime he tried to think beyond the next step, so he didn’t, focusing instead on tying his shoes, and then straightening his tie, and then opening the door, and then walking to the stairs.

Eve was downstairs with Flynn. Jenkins paused halfway down the flight, watching them embrace. He took a tentative step back, but it was too late; Flynn was already waving him down.

“Good morning,” he said when he reached the floor, looking at the space above Flynn’s shoulder.

“Good morning,” Eve replied. She stepped up to him and embraced him. He stood like a tree for a moment before awkwardly raising his arms around her back. “Listen to your heart,” she whispered in his ear. “It’s pure, remember?”

“Indeed,” he replied, ducking his head. He watched his shoes instead of watching her go.

There was a long, awkward silence, and then Flynn clapped his hands together. “So,” he said. “We should get started.”

“What?” Jenkins lurched out of his reverie, eyebrows flying to his hairline.

“There’s a lot of work to do,” Flynn replied, grinning.

“A lot of… I don’t understand. And –” he added, holding up a finger to delay whatever inane thing was about to fly out of the other man’s mouth next, “I cannot – I cannot handle ambiguity and guesswork today, Mr. Carsen. I cannot handle riddles, waiting games, mysteries, or surprise reveals. I know that for all of you this… business is not profound, but for me it is. It is everything. In the last few days you have torn apart everything I knew, everything I stood for, and you did it without my knowledge or my consent and without any warning or, or preparation and I cannot, Mr. Carsen, I cannot stand another minute of uncertainty so please, for once in your life, speak plainly, and loving god, speak quickly.”

Flynn’s smile had died on his face and when Jenkins finished speaking, the man before him was much humbler and more subdued. “I apologize,” he said. “Sit down, and I’ll explain.”

Jenkins sat, crossing his arms. Flynn, to his credit, didn’t back away from the simmering anger.

“You already know why we couldn’t get your consent ahead of time,” he said, “And I suspect you’ve guessed that there’s an… order to things. Mr. Jones, the least likely to be damaged by breaking your oath, with the most chaste kiss, and then building up to… the one that…”

“We shared,” Jenkins replied. He dared to meet the other’s eyes. “I kissed you back.”

“You’re a man, Jenkins. You feel sensations. Your body knows instinctively what it wants to do.”

Jenkins looked down, unfolding his arms, and clasped his hands on the table. “Go on,” he said.

“Okay. After you explained the relationship between the oath and the blood debt, while you were resting with Eve, as I’m sure you’ve surmised, we did some research to determine how to set things in motion before Morgan comes back, to take away the power that she’s seeking. Miss Cillian remembered the ‘three by three by three’ rule and came up with the idea that a man should be the one to break your oath.”

“I beg your pardon? Miss – Miss Cillian?” Jenkins sputtered. “You planned this with Miss Cillian?”

Flynn held his hands up in defence. “That is as far as her involvement went, I assure you,” he responded.

“Good lord.” Jenkins couldn’t sit any longer. He pushed the chair away and started pacing back and forth in front of the table.

“I’m sorry,” Flynn replied. “I know this is disconcerting.”

“Disconcerting? My privacy, my very dignity has been pawned off in your strategy, and to learn that –” Jenkins cut himself off, gasping in a deep breath. “It was bad enough having to live with the knowledge that the three of you discussed my… purity. But Cassandra? And Eve, I suppose,” he continued. He’d known that, of course, but he hadn’t really thought of it in a conscious way before. “I cannot abide this, Mr. Carsen.”

“It is a great harm that we’ve done to you, Sir,” he replied. “And I can only pray that one day you forgive us. But,” he added, standing and cutting off Jenkins mid-pace, grasping his arm and looking up at him insistently until the other man met his eye, “I don’t regret it. A great evil was stopped by your sacrifice, and while I will regret hurting you until the day I die, I will never regret the greater good that we are doing here.”

Jenkins’ expression softened into the grief that laced through all the anger. “Nor I, Mr. Carsen,” he said finally, with great sincerity.

Flynn smiled sadly. “Would you like me to stop?”

Jenkins closed his eyes for a moment, and then shook his head. He gestured at the table and they sat back down.

“Okay,” Flynn said. “The next part was more difficult. Just like with the kiss, we needed to build the – the intensity of the connection over time, to maximize the resonance and ensure that there’d be nothing left for Morgan to draw on. But we also had to approach things with goodness in our hearts, or we’d have ended up backfiring everything, weaving in too much of our own negativity. Jake went first because he was the most concerned about being with another man, so we figured he could, you know…”

“You know?” Jenkins repeated. “As in, you know what he… what we did?”

It was Flynn’s turn to redden, wincing. “I’m so sorry, Jenkins. We, I mean we didn’t plan every single detail step by step, but… yes.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” He held up his hands, his anguished glance begging Flynn to stop.

Flynn acknowledged the need immediately. “I’ll step away, and you find me when you’re ready to continue.”

+++

Jenkins sat and breathed deeply for what felt like an eternity, humiliation burning in his stomach. He knew he was a proud man and had endeavoured for centuries to humble himself, but this felt like too far of a stretch – the thought of them planning, clinically, what they would to… sully him. He shuddered.

He found himself rising to his feet, ready to run, feeling ruined beyond repair. He straightened his jacket and strode to the table where he kept his car keys. Leaning over to scoop them up, he noticed something sitting beside them – the trinket that Ezekiel had been spinning in his hands. He thought about Ezekiel’s hands. He remembered holding his hand.

His heart broke open. He pulled his hand away and tucked it in his pocket, took off his jacket and draped it neatly across the back of a chair, and turned in the direction the other man had gone. Flynn was hovering not far away, flipping through a book at random, not reading. He re-shelved the book quickly, fumbling slightly, and turned to the older man.

Jenkins held up a hand for silence. “I have decided that I do not require the details in regard to how you determined… what, and who,” he said, “save for what comes next.”

“Ah, okay,” Flynn said, shifting nervously. “Well, uh, the thing is, to build the power of the spell we have to build the, uh, intensity,”

“You’ve mentioned.” Jenkins’ voice held a sharp warning.

“Right so today, it’s, uh… the most intense. You and me.”

Jenkins swallowed hard, nodding. _Best get it done, then._ “So, you are going to…”

“Uh, no,” Flynn replied. “You’re going to. To me.”

“B – beg your pardon?”

“I know, it’s a lot,” Flynn answered. “But, uh, by you – penetrating me…”

“Please god, no,” Jenkins muttered, flushing at the word, but Flynn motored on.

“Then even the act that Morgan is owed has been done before, in a way that can’t produce a child. It still leaves the debt to pay, but as far as the oath is concerned, well, there should be no residual… you know…”

“Creative force,” Jenkins finished. Flynn shrugged. “And how do you propose we… uh…. Flynn, I’ve never…”

“Right,” Flynn said. “But I have. I’ll talk you through it.”

“You… have?” Jenkins repeated.

“Yeah. I – go both ways.”

“Good lord.” Jenkins cleared his throat, and then cleared it again. “Does Colonel Baird know?”

“Eve? You know about Eve? Of course, you know about Eve. We didn’t exactly hide it.”

Jenkins nodded, given him a pointed look.

“Right. Well, yes. Eve knows – I mean, in general. And well, she pretty much deduced what’s happening today.”

“Of course.” Jenkins fidgeted. “And what is happening here, Flynn? I mean, what do we do next?”

“Do you trust me, Jenkins?”

Jenkins looked to the ceiling, anxiety twisting at him. But when he looked back to the other man, he knew for sure the answer in his heart. Peace washed through the fear. “I do.”

“Come with me.”

+++

Flynn led him by the hand, slowly, up the stairs, rubbing little circles against his skin just above the thumb. Jenkins allowed himself to be led, watching Flynn closely as he looked back and smiled at him, seeing the care – and the desire – in the other man’s eyes. He could see it now. Flynn desired him. It wasn’t just pity or kindness, wasn’t just moral righteousness. It was desire.

Ezekiel had desired him all along. Even Jake had… _spilled seed in love’s embrace_ , the words whispered in the back of his mind. Jenkins closed his eyes against his own folly. “Love’s embrace,” he repeated out loud.

Flynn caught his eye and smiled. “You’re getting it now,” he said.

“I do,” he answered, his voice catching in his throat. They were in his room again, and Flynn was slowly undressing him, every touch a promise, sending slivers of pleasure shivering down his spine.

When he was naked, Flynn set him sitting on the edge of the bed and removed his own clothes, then sat beside him and drew the older man in for a kiss. It was tender and sweet, like their very first kiss, and Jenkins found himself sighing into Flynn’s mouth as the other man’s hands moved down his chest and between his legs, cradling his half-hard cock and rubbing one thumb across its head.

 _Love_ , Jenkins thought. _Respect. Reverence._ That was the common thread, the thing that he’d seen in all the men’s eyes, in their actions, felt in their kisses this whole time. How had he been so blind to it? How had he ever thought that this could soil him? He raised his hands to draw Flynn close, sliding them up his back and into his hair. Flynn shivered and made a content little sound against his mouth.

Slowly Jenkins realized that he was hard, achingly hard. Flynn pulled away and smiled at him. He lay down on the bed and drew Jenkins on top of him. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered.

“I’m ready,” Flynn answered. “I’ll guide you.” Flynn spread his legs and helped Jenkins maneuver into position. When the tip of his cock touched the ring of Flynn’s hole, he stiffened, his brain suddenly catching up to what his body was about to do, but Flynn gripped his hip with one hand and used the other to reach down, grasping Jenkins’ penis and guiding it in.

There was a tightness, a gasp, and then he was sliding. He stared down at Flynn with impossibly wide eyes as their bodies started to move together, and Flynn was gazing back up at him in plain adoration, one hand still steadying on Jenkins’ hip, helping him keep the angle and the rhythm.

And it was the most amazing… _it was… oh_. Jenkins bit his lip and sped up and Flynn tipped his head back and cried out and Jenkins fell closer to him and kissed Flynn’s neck, his collarbone, like Jake had done for him, and their mouths found each other’s. He came panting into Flynn’s mouth, Flynn’s hands tangled in his hair.

“My god,” he whispered, falling to the side. He pulled Flynn over him and wrapped his arm around the smaller man. Flynn managed to grasp the edge of the sheet and haul it, crooked, over their bodies.

Jenkins closed his eyes and went to sleep.

+++

He woke up with Flynn still in his arms, warm and quiet. “Are you okay?” Flynn asked.

“I feel I should ask you that,” he replied, tightening his embrace. He could feel Flynn’s laughter against his chest.

“I’m okay,” Flynn answered.

“As am I.” He lay there, holding his librarian, feeling peaceful and safe for the first time in days.

+++

Later, as night turned to dawn, they washed together, and then dressed together, mostly silent. Jenkins forewent his tie and jacket – it would all be coming off anyway. Flynn did the buttons of his shirt up for him, and then grasped him by the shoulders. “Whatever happens today,” he said, “Whatever you have to do… just remember this. Remember that you are loved, and you are wanted, and you are desired. And let that carry you.”

“I will,” he replied, overcome. They walked to the stairwell and descended hand in hand.

Morgan le Fay was waiting.


	5. Things Made to Last

She was grinning when they came into view but as soon as she caught sight of their expressions and their intertwined hands, her expression hardened. “What did you do?” she hissed. Jenkins let go of Flynn, putting his body between her and the librarian.

She stormed up to him, peering into his face. “You broke your oath,” she continued. Jenkins watched her silently, refusing to answer, watching her face crease with anger as she worked it out on her own. Then she laughed. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, but Jenkins could hear the undercurrent of fear in her voice. They had, after all, known each other a long time. She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. As long as you’ve never lain with another, I’ll still have what I want.”

“But he has,” Flynn said from behind Jenkins’ shoulder. “And it was good.” Morgan’s mouth dropped open and Jenkins permitted himself just the faintest smile.

“You,” she screeched, jabbing a hand in Flynn’s direction. She took a step toward him and Jenkins moved his large frame between them, almost choreographed, like a dance. “You…”

“We found a loophole,” Flynn confirmed.

Her eyes flew back to Jenkins. “I am still owed,” she howled.

“I’m prepared to pay,” Jenkins replied, his voice coming out stronger than he felt.

“You will,” she said, wrapping her hand around his arm, her nails digging into his flesh like claws. She muttered a few words of a dark, old spell, and they were gone.

+++

Hours later, there was a noise like a clap of thunder and a rush of air flooded through the library. Jenkins reappeared, staggering, and fell to his knees. He was barefoot, his shirt and trousers torn, his hands and face bloody.

He retched, and someone shoved a bucket under his face just in time to catch the vomit that spewed out. He gasped, tears falling from his eyes, and vomited again, then sat back on his rump, breathing hard, shaking. Hands rubbed circles into his back, and he turned instinctively to them, weeping.

“It’s alright, mate,” a voice said above him, and Jenkins cried harder, clinging to Ezekiel, who fairly wrapped his body around the older man and rocked him.

He sobbed for what felt like hours before he regained control and sat up, still in the circle of Ezekiel’s arms. Someone pressed a handkerchief into his hands, and he used it to wipe his face. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. Ezekiel shifted beside him and he leaned back into the smaller man, looking around.

Everyone was there. Jake and Cassandra were sitting very close to each other at the table, Jake’s arm swung protectively around her shoulders. Flynn stood nearby, and Eve knelt before him. She smiled when he met her eyes. “Battle’s over,” she said, both a statement and a question, and he nodded.

“Perhaps a cup of tea,” Cassandra said, pulling Jake with her toward the kitchen. Eve assisted Jenkins to his feet, walked him to the table, and guided him to his seat. He slumped there for a moment and then sat up and looked wildly around, relaxing again when Ezekiel settled beside him. He grabbed for the younger man’s hand and clung to it, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Tea appeared before him and he prepared his cup one-handed, the other shaking as it brought the cup to his lips to take a sip. He set it down slowly and carefully, and sighed. “I –”

“No one needs you to say anything about what happened,” Flynn interrupted, and Jenkins felt his whole body go limp in relief. “We’re just glad that you came back to us.”

Jenkins closed his mouth again and nodded. He could barely keep his eyes open. He was so impossibly tired. “I’d like to be alone,” he whispered. He heard the rustling of clothes and the moving of furniture as the others gathered their things and left. There was, at last, silence. Then Jenkins realized that his hand was still encased in Ezekiel’s warm one. He looked up and met the other man’s gaze.

“I don’t really care if you meant me too,” Ezekiel said, smiling. “I’m not going.”

“Mr. Jones,” Jenkins started, and despite the bone-deep weariness and lingering horror that seemed to pulse through his veins, he found himself smiling. “I’m really not surprised. I believe you did say you thought that I was worth the wait.”

Ezekiel stood and came around to Jenkins’ side, finally extracting his hand from the other’s only to pull him into an embrace. Jenkins leaned into it gratefully. Ezekiel planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Slow burning fires last,” Ezekiel said. “And I’ve been looking for something that lasts.”

Jenkins breathed out a laugh. “They don’t come much more long-lasting than me,” he answered.

“Well that works out then.” Jenkins settled even further into Ezekiel’s arms, closing his eyes, at peace at last.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to write a little story about how all the guys have to do Jenkins to break a spell, and it turned into a really long story. Thanks for sticking with it.


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